


Experiments Regarding Man-kinds Destruction

by orphan_account



Category: Invader Zim
Genre: M/M, Masturbation, Other, Pining, ZaDr, zadr but technically just zim and his fucking claws!!, zim is in hi skool
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-20
Updated: 2018-11-20
Packaged: 2019-08-26 16:59:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16685575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Zim's mind was full to the brim of filthy, Dib-stink-related things. Things like nauseatingly fluttery feelings when Dib’s hand lingered over his. Like the dizziness that plagued him when Dib’s mouth touched his. Like the inability to think as Dib’s awkward hands traveled to places even Zim hadn’t touched before. Of course he was disgusted but also curious. Painfully curious, and eager, too, to try things Irken's never wanted to try. Humans were so interesting- and stupid.





	Experiments Regarding Man-kinds Destruction

**Author's Note:**

> i spent almost an hour trying to format this "nicer" but it didn't save my efforts, so please forgive the strangely wide spaces between paragraphs.

“ _ Sir, you have paced the lab seventy-four ti-” _

 

“I am aware of my own pacing!” Zim came to a sudden halt, rearing towards one of his massive monitors. Nothing flashed on it but a dormant Irken symbol. His computer went instantly silent though somehow managed to seem irritated. He’d been pacing for… a while now. Zim began tapping one foot, arms crossed tightly over his chest. So was he going to do it, or not? It had been on his mind for days now and he was so eager to try it, despite it’s perverse nature. He’d set everything up for it, all he had to do was go forward with it. He scoffed, overly loud, and faced the screen again.

 

“Computer!” He was struggling not to wring out the hem of his tunic. 

 

“ _ Yes? _ ” In that annoyed, I’ve-got-better-things-to-do tone. Zim might’ve scowled if he didn’t have more pressing matters on his mind.

 

“Shut down. Entirely. Deactivate all systems, immediately.” 

 

“ _Uhhh._ _Alright..?”_ A beat of silence while Zim stood before the monitor, antennae pressed against his skull. “ _Including the front lawns security system?”_

 

“Um. No. No, leave that on. Everything else, off! I will reactivate you later!”

 

“ _ Fine.”  _ Another silence until Zim leaned suddenly forward.

 

“W-wait! Leave the lights on!”

 

“ _ Ugh. _ ” The monitor managed to mutter irritably as it’s screen cut abruptly to black. An invader icon appeared at the bottom right hand corner of the screen, blinking, before it, too, disappeared. The lights remained, purple and fuschia, although they'd dimmed considerably. Zim inhaled. A silence had fallen, also. A very heavy, stifling silence.

 

He was alone now. No one could hear him, see him, find him in the very bowels of his base. Gir was upstairs watching his television. The doors were guarded but even if some intruder  _ did _ appear, the elevator wouldn’t work. Nothing would. Zim turned promptly on his heel and stomped towards a door. He placed his palm on the activator and waited patiently for it to open. Of course, it didn’t, and realization didn’t dawn on him until he was about to shout  _ computer _ .

_ Oh, haha. Of course it doesn't work… Zim knew this.  _ Almost embarrassed, Zim pried the door open with three PAK legs and slipped into the room.

 

It was illuminated by a single lamp that hung over a bed like structure at the end of the room. The bed, covered in purple bed sheets and far too many throw pillows, had been purchased fairly recently. Irken’s didn’t sleep. He had no use for a bed. But the Dib’s bed was so soft, so comfortable. On nights when he didn't want to bother with trekking all the way to Dib’s house, Zim had decided he could get his own. Of course, it was not nearly as warm as Dib’s was. Or soft. Or comfortable. And no one slid arms around Zim’s middle, or did anything annoying like that, but he could live without that on occasion.

 

Behind him, the door slammed closed with a thud making him jump. Glancing around to make sure no one had seen his anxiousness (and of course, no one had), Zim placed his hands behind his back and marched for the bed. 

There were no personal effects in the room, nothing to truly distinguish it from any other Irken room save for the fact that it had been created for something as mundane and perverse as… Well...

 

Zim pushed this thought away then realized if it was the very reason he was here, what good was it to ignore it? He was alone, wasn’t he? No one knew what he was up to, right? The power was down; none of the cameras or security measures this far down were currently activated. He sat at the edge of the bed and placed a gloved hand on the comforter (dark, syrupy purple). He could feel it’s softness beneath his gloves and although it looked comfy, it was markedly different than  _ his  _ bed.

His hand ran along the sheets before returning to his lap where he tapped his fingers against his thighs and stalled. He felt little stirring down there, no heat he’d experienced so frequently nowadays when  _ he  _ was too close to him, when  _ he  _ did that weird mouth thing humans liked to do.

 

_ But don’t  _ you _ enjoy it _ ?

 

It was irritating when his own voice spoke to him within his own head.  _ Reasoning  _ or  _ consciousness _ or whatever this was called to humans, Zim wanted nothing to do with it. And it constantly bickered with him when it came to things involving  _ The Dib. _ Things like nauseatingly fluttery feelings when Dib’s hand lingered over Zim’s. Like the dizziness that plagued him when Dib’s mouth touched his. Like the inability to think when Dib touched him save for a sort of fleeting panic, some ancient  _ flight or fight  _ instinct as Dib’s awkward hands traveled to places even Zim hadn’t touched before. And of course, always Zim would pull away, trembling, and they would stop. Dib never minded much (although Zim was aware of his disappointment, though for what reason he couldn’t understand) and they’d speak quietly together in the darkness of wherever they hid.

 

It was annoying. So very annoying. And nearly taboo. Sexuality among Irkens was completely repressed, there was little, if any, discussion about it. Sex was for reproduction only and if smeets could be made via vats rather quickly, what was the point? And sex for the sake of pleasure was just a waste of time, and no Irken really had that save for the Tallest. There were better things to do. So as Zim lowered himself into the bed he’d gotten all the way down to the bowels of his base, and bent to gingerly remove his stockings, he stopped very suddenly and thought,  _ what the  _ fuck  _ am I doing?  _

 

The base was so quiet he could hear the thrum of blood in his head. There was only a low humming of equipment, much quieter than usual. He thought he could even hear the distant, maniacal singing from Gir’s television show upstairs. He’d learned about human…  _ Masturbation _ (he hated this word and all it’s grotesque syllables) years ago. He remembered the other kids giggling and cringing and ew-ing at the images projected on the wall in class. Dib had been disinterested and embarrassed; but Zim had taken notes. Anything about humans was terribly important for an Invader such as himself, and reproduction was key to life. End reproduction and you were likely to end life itself on any planet.

Of course, that was what this was for. For world domination, destruction, the end of humanity. Yes, that’s what he was doing right now, as he slid off the stockings and the boots. The feeling of cool air against his skin made him shudder. Something traveled up his spine, like electricity. This was… Some form of research. A very unique kind. And here was an elite Invader trying it for himself, as any Invader...Would… He supposed... Whatever. It didn't matter, because no one would ever know what he’d been up to.

 

Pressed awkwardly into the soft bed, Zim sat momentarily still. Well, he was here now, but how exactly did this sort of thing even begin? His hands clasped over his middle and he chewed on his lip. He felt somehow very embarrassed, as if someone, somewhere knew of his confusion, his lack of knowledge at something so seemingly easy. 

Frustration made him sit up, hike his tunic up and over his head, tossing it aside and then quickly regretting it. It was so damn  _ cold  _ down here…  He took off next the undergarments he wore beneath everything, tugging sleeves away until all that remained were his gloves. He stared at them. Irken hands were strangely sensitive, the little pads on their fingertips great for gripping surfaces much like a spider's legs, but strangely keen to touch as well. They felt perhaps a tad  _ too _ much, and the gloves helped with that. Zim swallowed. He rarely removed his own gloves, unless they needed to be cleaned or switched out with a new pair, and even then he was quick about it. Carefully, he tugged at one finger, plucked the glove away before lying it carefully beside him, repeating the process with the other.

For the second time, Zim lowered himself back down onto his bed, squirming uncomfortably. He stared at the ceiling. He took a breath, then two. His two hands which were clasped awkwardly at his middle moved slowly down himself, towards the place between his thin legs. His own fingers felt odd there, soft and too gentle. Of course he wasn't going to be rough with himself, but there was a foreign feeling of sentimentality as the edges of his nails skirted over skin. He shuddered, found  _ that _ place down there, nearly jolted again…

Irkens, across the board, had pretty much the same genitalia; a sheath like slit which held deep within it a long, slick appendage. Between Irkens, the appendages were meant to intertwine tightly together during sex, a thought which (and Zim would never,  _ ever _ mention this fantasy to Dib) made him wish Dib might also be Irken just to experience the intensity of it.

 

His fingers slipped into the slit just between his legs and found it was hot and very, very wet. 

_ How embarrassing. _ That meant he was at least a bit aroused and this was a fact Zim was not prepared to face. 

He squeezed his eyes shut and thought, and thought- about  _ what? _ What did humans think of in these moments? What should he imagine? What stimuli existed for an alien disgusted by the human race? He was uninterested in girls and boys alike and whatever other useless labels humans built for themselves. He’d seen the human  _ porn  _ before and the disgusting things that might entail from that. What on Irk was he supposed to dwell on in this moment?!

 

World domination was quite stimulating and while  _ yes _ it could be said Irkens had a thing or two for explosions and death and carnage, Zim wasnt finding much mileage in that...

There was The Dib. 

 

Dib with his chapped lips and rough, awkward hands. Oversized coats and strange contraptions in his ears he called  _ gay-jez _ . Whatever that meant. And his stupid hair. And his stupid glasses. And his stupid laughter and smiling and the side glances. The warmth of his hands as he’d gripped Zim as though for dear life in that closet at Torque’s house, the dim light above them, and the taste of Dib’s tongue on his own. He’d tasted sweet. Why did he taste so sweet? Why wasn’t he disgusting and icky and gross?

Still, that night lingered in Zim’s mind, an unwanted memory that pried and demanded to be recalled. He’d considered locking the memory away into his PAK, have it literally blocked out forever but everytime he tried, he’d stop himself. Dib’s pleading eyes in the shadows of the closet, his hands on Zim’s, the complete lack of interest to undermine him somehow, to start some fight.  Dib near trembling across from him in Torque’s closet, Dib pushing his mouth against his. They’d gone to Zim’s house together and spent several hours side by side on his couch, hardly speaking with the television on. Gir had taken control of the remote and neither of them had seemed to notice, too engrossed in the other’s silent company. 

 

“ _ This isn’t the end of this discussion. This isn’t- the last time we do this-” _

 

_ “No. No it is not.”  _ Zim had opened the floodgates, and flood they had. At skool, Dib had returned to sitting close to him, but now there came a tension. His fingers sought out Zim’s when they were walking together and no one else was looking, and Zim  _ let him hold his fingers.  _ He could feel the heat of the human through his gloves. That stupid, cursed heat! How could he ever let Dib touch him without any intention of injuring him? It felt almost worse! It made his gut twist, it made his head ache, it made him anxious to sit so close to him, to be so near… What had he done to him? What toxin had Dib slipped into his food, what poison was coursing through his blood now to make him feel-

No. No, none of that was true and he knew it. Dib had promised as much, and according to him, humans could not lie if they said  _ promise  _ before something. But Zim’s mind could not help but panic at these foreign emotions and wants. 

He didn’t want to want Dib. 

He didn’t want to want any of this.

And yet his mind kept going.

If he touched him now, Dib would be warm. Perhaps hot. And his fingers might travel to the places Zim’s did now, in the darkness of his base, tucked far away in a strange bedroom he’d only recently furnished.  _ For this very purpose? No. No! Of course not! For research! Yes… _

Zim had begun working on himself, moving his fingers gently against the walls within his slit. The feelings made his twitch and he’d stop, catch his breath, then try slowly again. A tiny sound slipped from his lips when he allowed himself to slide deeper in… His mind wandered, to things said and done between he and the other human boy...

Dib’s awkward hands on him, his fumbling touches. What would that be like? Would he be soft? Rough? Or gentle and slow...  _ Terribly slow _ … The pads of Zim’s fingers brushed against something hard within himself and he gasped sharply, unexpected. He knew of his own anatomy, of course, he knew every inch of himself very well. What Invader didn’t? But he’d never… Well, he knew what was down there but he… He never really… Messed with it...

The appendage, thick and slick with arousal coaxed itself from the slit, sliding out and against his palm. It began wrapping itself tightly around his small hand and he shuddered again, legs trembling. He recalled, in the teachings he’d received in military training, that their own genitalia knew what it wanted in regards to mating, but the PAK had been reprogrammed to prevent unwanted emotions. 

_ What,  _ then _ , is this?  _ Zim’s mind was reeling. His own length was hot and throbbing and frightening in his hand. Tentatively, he forced himself to relax, loosen the grip his hand was trying to take on himself. He made a stroking gesture. There were grooves, small and round along the appendage, and they were all sensitive. Even the lightest touch made him arch his back and gasp. Something buzzed from the bottoms of his feet to the top of his head. A tingling, bright, hot feeling that made him almost choke out a breath. His hands felts as though they were on fire. He paused. He didn’t know these things felt so… Intense. No wonder they were taught not to engage in any physical activity such as this. It was distracting. And unproductive.

 

_ Does the Dib do this, too _ ? Humans supposedly learned to  _ masturbate  _ quite naturally. It was an instinct of sorts, one they could not push away, the primitive creatures. What did Dib think of then?

 

_ He thinks of you, of course. _

 

A moment of very pleasurable, warm pride; his fingers stroked his length, glad of this thought which was most certainly true. Of  _ course _ the Dib thought of  _ him  _ in the darkness of his own bedroom… But specifically what of him?

Somewhere, Zim was repulsed by this idea of being thought of in such a perverse way. But elsewhere, he didn't mind at all. If Dib thought of anyone else, then of course, Zim would be furious. Absolutely livid.

Did Dib imagine being dominated by him? Pinned by PAK legs as Zim took him as he wanted him? Zim’s tongue, deep within his mouth, Zim nipping at his lips, his neck, leaving prideful, possessive marks wherever his mouth went? Human genitalia was strange but for a moment Zim could pretend it was not, and that he might straddle Dib and allow himself to wrap around Dib’s member and stroke and squeeze and tug, oh so carefully, purring at whatever sound the human made?

This was all well and good as Zim pressed a free hand over his mouth to withhold some ptiful moan that might have just torn him from his reverie.  _ Yesss _ , he would make Dib beg. Demand more from him until Zim pushed him over the edge. Of course, he would take care of himself first just because it would be so intoxicating to watch the human gasping beneath him….

But what of the Dib conquering  _ him _ ? Of course, it could never happen, never, never but…

It was strangely easy to imagine Dib’s hands tight around Zim’s wrists, pinning him to his bed. Those stupid glo-in-the-dark stars he plastered to his ceiling would be glittering behind Dib’s silhouette as he leaned down and pressed his mouth against Zim’s. He’d release one of his wrists to cup his chin, grip the angles of his face. Zim would let him, let him guide his mouth this way or that. He’d let him tug off his stockings and hike his tunic up to his chest, reveal a smooth, scarless body without a blemish to be seen. Dib would run his hands over the skin and Zim wouldn’t mind the scars on the humans palms, the ridges and roughness of them… 

Perhaps he’d arch his back, as he did now, his fingers stroking faster, his member further unraveling itself from within him until it was long and wrapped tight around his fingers, palm, and wrist. His breath hitched loudly and a word, no, a name fluttered out… He ignored it, instead clapping one free hand over his mouth and imagining one of Dib’s hands finding the middle of his back, drawing him closer. Neither of them would be clothed, and Dib’s skin would flush against Zim’s as they pressed together. Humans reproduced via penetration and plenty of other things, but, they could do the same  _ without  _ the intention of reproduction. Another reason they were so primitive, so lazy, so unadvanced. They did so much for pleasure. Whether this was wrong or not, Zim didn’t linger too long on it… Dib would, at this point, enter him because that was the next step, the final stage in sex, wasn’t it? How would it feel? Would he be big? Tragically, Zim didn’t know, but the ghost of a sensation, of being filled up made him moan between his fingers and he began feeling very dizzy. Sweat had gathered at his brow and his antennae were pressed tightly against his head. Part of him badly wanted to stop, to catch his breath and relax, make this building in his gut come to a grinding stop; it wasn’t natural, it felt too strange. But another half of him dug his heels into the bed, squirmed, and urged his hand to keep moving, faster, faster. His PAK warned him to breathe steadily, his heart hammered anxiously in his little chest. 

Dib would kiss him… Hungry and quickly, his tongue exploring, violating every inch of his mouth. Zim would moan against him, would whine, but Dib would go on… He’d hold him tight, pushing inside of him, faster, faster, and the feeling building up in his gut would be overwhelming, as though he were about to burst. He might tell Dib this, as embarrassing as it would be, but Dib would be watching him with half mast eyes and a faint smile and he would reassure him. His movements might be rough but his words need not be…He’d caress his cheek, say something gentle and stupidly kind, so like the Dib to be achingly sweet in even the most humiliating of situations. Maybe he’d chuckle, breathily, and Zim would feel the moist heat of it against his head where an ear might be. He would claw at his back, curse and allow himself to be held in place until, until-

 

Zim’s free hand had begun clutching at the bedsheets so tight it ached. What a filthy and low place to be, he thought bitterly, as he mind concocted one wild fantasy after the next. How unlikely for any of this, how unlike him to allow Dib any control over his superior body? But still he could not seem to reign himself in. There was a rapid pulse within his head and little whimpers kept spilling from his lips. Heat had pooled at his middle and it was terribly addictive. He had never felt this way before, this over the edge feeling, as though a single push would throw him somewhere far, far away. Dib, tugging his gloves off with his teeth. Dib with his strange and new body, new scent, new everything, burying teeth in the crook of Zim’s neck. All the sounds he’d make as he let the human have him whatever way he wanted made his hand work faster. Before he knew it, he  _ was _ falling over that unseen edge. His free hand clutched at the blankets and his body felt both stiff and on vibrate all at once as he cried, suddenly, out. A thick, clear and pink-tinted liquid had spurted suddenly onto his fingers, into his palm, and ran down his wrists. 

 

Something akin panic was swarming wildly in Zim’s mind as he caught his breath. Had he done it right? Was this supposed to happen? He stared at his hand, having sat weakly up, fretfully.He chest rose and fell rapidly. It wasn't as if he could ask anyone, not even his computer and certainly not any human or Irken. 

Well, it didn't look like blood… And he recalled in his teachings as a smeet that there  _ was _ , usually, some substance that came from this sort of interaction…

His cheeks began burning with a terrible heat at the recollection that this substance which had come from himself indicated a very pleased, very satisfied Irken, and was needed in the reproduction process as well. All this because of the stupid, filthy, ugly, nasty, stinky, and grotesque  _ Dib.  _

… Zim badly wanted to try it again.

Instead, he scowled, hatred, disgust, and shame replacing the high of pleasure he’d so shortly felt. He reached for the little table at his bedside and yanked several tissues from the box placed atop it. Wiping his hands, he muttered bitterly to himself. No, he wouldn't do that again, and he would certainly never do it with the Dib....  _ But why not? Hadn’t that felt- felt somehow… Good? _

No, no it hadn’t, it had felt… It had felt… 

Awful. Terrible. Terrible terrible horrible terrible. Yes. Yes that was exactly how he felt…

 

Zim was frowning. He tugged on his gloves, ignoring their heightened sensitivity. His entire self was trembling slightly, and he named the reason for that to be fear and not any sort of recently felt pleasure. He bent and grabbed his stockings from the floor, tugging them on. Next came his undergarments, his tunic, his boots. He badly wanted to think about his mission or perhaps the Tallest or his time spent beneath Irk as a smeet, or even whatever English homework he had yet to do for skool. His thoughts, however, had fixated on a recent memory...

 

The other night they’d spent a few hours in the bed of Dib’s truck, star gazing. The light pollution had made it impossible to see the best of it, but still Dib had those wide, easily impressed eyes, the lights reflecting in his glasses.

 

_ “When I was young and upset about something stupid, I’d come out here. It used to always calm me down. Until I started thinking what might be out there, of course. But for a moment. I’d feel fine…” _ His voice had been far too soft. They hadn’t really been touching save for their fingers at their sides. Zim was unimpressed. He’d seen stars up close, been through nebulas, and boredly watched entire galaxies blip across his map. It was sometimes strange that the Dib had only been outside his atmosphere on only so many occasions, and even then, they’d all been to stop Zim in his antics. Never to sight see. Zim felt that was almost sad. What a miniscule life, to have never seen must further than a few planets into your own solar system.  _ I should take him to see everything.  _

Zim sat up suddenly. Such a sweet and gentle and kind thought! What on  _ Irk!  _ Disgusting! Filthy! How horrifically uncharacteristic of him, the almighty, terrifying, elite Irken Invader Zim, feeling such gentle emotions towards anyone other than himself?

Fully dressed, Zim stared at his knees. He had things to do, he was sure of it, but he couldn't bring himself to move. He felt too strange. Almost sick. The high from his climax had faded and left behind a feeling of aching regret and anxiety. Would Dib even be interested in an interaction such as sex? Most humans seemed to regard it as sacred, and while Zim knew quite well he was worthy enough for Dib for such a thing, did  _ Dib  _ know, also, that he was? Sure, he allowed him to put his mouth against his but would he ever want sex? 

And if he did, would Zim even allow him that close? The idea of being so close, pinned beneath him, fully naked was exhilarating but terrifying. 

 

… If he  _ did  _ let Dib hold him down, Zim would like his gloves to have been removed, very gently. That was a very old courting gesture, no longer used, but one Zim knew about. He’d done his research in regards to Irken romantic and sexual relations, although all that information had been difficult to find. Clasping hands together with another Irken, ungloved, was a very gentle thing to do. It meant trust and a reluctance to leave the other’s side.

 

A voice somewhere above him made him jolt suddenly. Four PAK legs burst out as the clinking and clunking of something tearing through the ceiling made his heart pound. He fumbled for his waist but found no plasma gun or knife there. He had his PAK but that wasn’t enough! He had no other weapon! How foolish of him- of course  _ something _ had been waiting for this  _ very  _ moment to finally-

The air vent at the other side of the room flew open, the metal grate flying across the room where it struck the wall near Zim’s head and clattered loudly onto the ground. He shrunk further against the wall, teeth bared, prepared for whatever enemy awaited him.

 

“Oh, therrrree you are, Master!” Gir popped his head out of air duct and smiled wide. “I’s couldn’t get the elevator to work so I crawled through the vents! I couldn’t find you!” He hopped from the air duct onto the floor, where he did not land on his feet but instead flat on his face. He might have caught himself with his hands had he not been carrying two melting  _ somethings.  _ He sat clumsily up. “The Ice Cream Master was outside, so I’s got you this!” He stuck out one hand.

 

Zim’s terror was replaced with fiery irritation. “Gir, I told you that if you came down here without my asking I would  _ disassemble you again and never put you ba-  _ hey, what  _ is  _ that?” Whatever Gir had in his hand, it had melted nearly entirely down his metallic arms. All that remained was what appeared to be a very soggy waffle cone.

 

Gir eyed it as though he had only now realized he had it, even though he held his arm out towards Zim. “I  _ don’t  _ knooow. I think it was- it was- ohhh I don’t remember! Ehehehe!” He slapped one hand against his forehead. Zim scowled, disgusted, his earlier turmoils forgotten as he trudged towards the door.

 

“Well  _ clean it up! _ You’ve got filthy human deserts all over my base no doubt!” He shouted as he pried the door open. Gir followed quickly after him although the door slammed shut just as he was stepping through, catching him in his middle. Zim ignored this, heading for the dashboard of his lab just beneath the screen. He pressed a few buttons and waited as the screen returned to life. Machinery began to start up all already him, making his antennae lift; he felt markedly better without all that silence. Gir hummed somewhere behind him. The sudden power surge took out half the blocks electricity, but Zim wouldn’t have cared about that even if he’d known.

He tapped his fingers against the dashboard. Did this change anything but he and Dib? The question made his guts twist.  _ Of course not. The Dib has no idea.  _ Although seeing him, meeting his eyes anytime soon would feel as though Dib were aware of his earlier actions. Perhaps he’d avoid him, and dump mashed potatoes into his backpack when he wasn’t looking. Trip him in the hallway once or twice. Yes that would settle the score, even if Dib didn’t know about said score. 

 

“Computer!” The screen displayed a blinking Irken Invader symbol before it took up the entire screen.

 

“ _ Yes?”  _ His computer sounded as though it had been forcefully woken up.

 

“Scan my base for any abnormalities.” A brief pause. Zim tapped his foot impatiently.

 

_ “Obtrusion detected in door of Room 117.”  _ Zim glanced over his shoulder where Gir remained caught in the door. He was kicking his feet, unaware of his predicament, while both cone’s continued to drip into two puddles of vanilla and chocolate onto the lab’s floor. Zim groaned. He felt a headache coming on.

 

“Just leave it that way.” He growled.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> im very enthusiastic about Zim being a bottom. as if that disaster could top.
> 
> This fic is also a sort of second part to another fic I wrote, Seven Minutes to Doom, although you can read this one w/out the other for the most part.


End file.
